Mitsuha
by Luriko-Ysabeth
Summary: A look at one of the minor characters of this show. A *weird* look. Yes, Virginia, this *is* a crossover... mostly with a universe rather than a set of characters, though.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: In a few archaic names, the combination "mizu-ha" is read   
"Mitsuha." Don't ask me why. But if someone had that name, she would probably   
modernize it...  
  
The small figure opened the front door of the suburban house and called "Tadaima!"   
as she neatly kicked off her shoes. She pulled the door shut and stepped up into the   
house proper, almost running into the living room. There, with a sigh of relief, she   
relaxed the transformation spell and swelled into her true form.  
  
"Okaeri nasai, Mitsuha-sama," the servant playing the part of her father said with a   
bow. "Would you care for some refreshments?"  
  
"A margarita," Mitsuha ordered as she lowered herself to recline on the divan that   
took up one corner of the room. She favored the servant with a smile, and inwardly   
nodded in approval as he leapt to do her bidding, honored by this mark of her   
regard.  
  
Her form was rather what had been held in mind when the word 'lush' was   
invented. Queenly lines of neck and shoulder rose above twin melons (as one of her   
more poetic court had once claimed); her figure narrowed at the waist, to gently   
swell into full, womanly hips that managed to be wide without being fat. Her limbs,   
upper and lower, were supple and well-formed. The whole was crowned by a pretty   
face framed by masses of red-gold curls, two delicately pointed vulpine ears peeking   
out atop her head. A matching red-gold fox-tail emerged just above her well-shaped   
derriere, its white tip resting on one thigh with a sort of arch promise.  
  
At the moment, her face was set in an expression of petulance. Of all things to   
disguise oneself as, a human child *had* to be one of the worst out there! All those   
restrictions were set about them, and they weren't even large enough or strong   
enough to do anything properly. It must be awful enough for those born as one, or   
for those with only two or three tails -- the ones who needed a skull of their target to   
transform.  
  
For Mitsuha, Youko of the Seventh Red (seven red tails), who had been a lesser   
queen in Makai, it was near-intolerable. Only one thing could have lured her to   
leave her comfortable palace, where her servants and lovers -- there was little   
difference between the two -- waited diligently and dotingly on her every desire.  
  
"Your margarita, Mistress," the servant said humbly, kneeling before her.  
  
Mitsuha took the cocktail without bothering to look at the pink-haired youko. Stupid   
failures; it didn't do to let them start expecting too much. Despite the hopes she   
knew he entertained, she would never deign to take an Odd-color to her bed. She   
knew others were less picky, but it didn't negate her casual disgust for the failures   
of the only known youko genetic experiment.  
  
In the normal way of things, a youko was all but indistinguishable from a mere-fox   
at birth, except for the fact that the pup would change as the genetrix did for the first   
year or so of life. As a youko grew older, she might expect to grow more tails as her   
power increased. And whether or not he had worked on raising his class level or   
grown any additional tails, eventually with advancing age the youko's hair/fur would   
turn silver, automatically raising that lucky fox an entire class.  
  
Then, a long time ago (probably soon after Saotome Miko-ya-Maihime struck the   
bargain with Inari-sama), youko had noticed that some bloodlines would go Silver   
earlier than others -- not to mention that some, both among the early-Silver and late-  
Silver ones, were more prone to throw the odd golden, black, or albino fox. These   
last were often regarded badly; only their pink eyes could enable one to tell an   
albino from that rarity, a youko who had survived long enough to pass from Silver to   
White.  
  
Inari-sama's miko had set up a breeding program to try to produce youko who   
would go Silver as early as possible, and had done some... ah... tampering to try to   
make it a dominant trait. While they had, eventually, produced some bloodlines of   
those born-Silver (and trusted to them to go out and procreate mightily), they had   
also produced several failures along the way.  
  
The Odd-colors had pale fur/hair, often of a light pastel shade. They had greater   
youryoku at the outset. However, no Odd-color had ever risen above the Fifth, and   
they were *unable* to reach Silver. And their colors were also dominant; only a   
born-Silver could override that particular genetic code.  
  
Mitsuha despised them as failures. Still, she would be among the first to admit that   
they had their uses. Both as seducers or seducees for other foxes, and as servants for   
her. She also disliked the born-Silvers; this, however, was based on pure raw   
jealousy.  
  
Seven tails already, and it would be at least *fifty years* before she might hope to   
be a Silver, with all the amplification that implied. It was easy to dominate the   
weak-minded -- she could do that on pure personality and sexuality alone -- but it   
was harder to keep and hold those who had greater strength to them. Illusion and   
transformation, her specialty, could only do so much. With the Silver power behind   
her, she was sure, she could *own* anyone of a lower class level, many of her   
peers, and some even of those above her.  
  
But until then, she had to make do with her own devices, including deceit,   
seduction, lies, illusion, and aggressiveness. And THAT was why she was here, in   
the Ningenkai, in this miserable human body, at all.  
  
She drank rather more margarita in one swallow than was considered polite in   
cocktail circles.  
  
Mitsuha had, some centuries ago, chosen a consort.  
  
He had wandered into her domain, extremely bedraggled and pathetic-looking, and   
she had been in something of a merciful mood. She'd ordered her servants to bathe   
the mud-splattered dark-haired youkai, feed him, and put him to bed. Who knew; he   
might actually clean up decent-looking.  
  
Her new guest had proved to be rather unprepossessing. He was some sort of tengu   
hybrid -- with what, she'd never bothered to find out -- and his nose made him look   
less like a corvid or raptor than some sort of rodent. Takeshi, for such was his name,   
had unruly black hair, scrawny muscles over a short-yet-rangy frame, and had no   
skill at anything she tested him at, except scholarship and some slight aptitude for   
the forgotten arts of magic.   
  
She'd originally decided to take him as a lover out of a combination of desire for   
variety and good-samaritanship. Then he'd proved unexpectedly hard to seduce.   
And then, even after they'd been in bed, she had still been having trouble asserting   
her own will over him: he would bend to everything, and yet not offer her up the   
deepest recesses of his soul.  
  
She'd named him her consort when she found that his passive resistance piqued her   
interest. And besides, they worked well together, and she'd never been in any   
danger of being outshone by *Takeshi*.   
  
And then, during that, Mitsuha had found that although she could overwhelm him in   
all the little things, when it came to a few issues, he absolutely would not budge.  
  
This was, of course, intolerable.  
  
And then there was the concubine she bought him, when she was chasing a   
particularly lovely pair of twins and didn't need distractions. Besides, Takeshi'd   
been so good for the past decade or so that he deserved a reward. The girl had been   
well-muscled, young, and as clean as she could keep herself. She had also been   
rather plain: no competition whatever. *Logically*, no competition whatsoever. She   
hadn't even had more of a figure than a boy's!  
  
And yet Takeshi, *her* Takeshi, had fallen in love with the little bitch. The only   
thing that made the situation bearable was that the girl didn't think of him that way.  
  
And then, while she was running through plans to inconvenience that *cat*, and   
made a resolution to be nicer to Takeshi, Galia had shown up. Lithe and lovely, and   
yet harsh in her femininity; she'd been determined to add the sword-dancer to her   
stable.  
  
And SHE -- she'd fallen in love, not with her, but with her consort's convenience,   
who'd apparently been in love as well.  
  
How dare he! How *dare* that slut!  
  
She'd been particularly proud of the little 'accident' she'd arranged. Such a fine   
swordwielder, what a tragic accident that her pack of guard thoats had slaughtered   
her when he tried to visit her consort's lover; the kept woman had obviously felt it   
deeply. Why else would she have drowned herself in the well?  
  
Takeshi had figured out that she'd arranged for the thoats to be released   
unexpectedly that night. He'd seemed to blame her, but she'd been confident that   
he'd get over it. He'd need comforting, and she was always there.  
  
And then -- it *must* have been those visitors she had. What had that White fox   
wanted to go and interfere for, anyway?  
  
Takeshi had stormed in and confronted her. He'd found out somehow that she'd had   
to give his little slut a lot of 'assistance' in her drowning. She'd tried facile lies, but   
he hadn't believed a word. Finally, he'd hissed "Monster. I despise the very scent of   
you," before stalking off.  
  
She'd been upset, but confident that she would have him back, and willing to kneel   
before her and beg pardon for those words. This time she'd finally master him, and   
her happiness would be his will.  
  
Then one of her servants had found him.  
  
He must have been improving as a thief. He'd stolen the thing from one of her halls   
without anyone noticing.  
  
He hadn't even had a second. How *could* he? Takeshi had always hated physical   
pain.  
  
And yet he had, undeniably, disembowelled himself in the old and proper way, with   
a *sword*. He appeared to have managed it in as painful a manner as possible, too.  
  
Mitsuha gulped down the rest of the margarita. Hang good manners, for once!  
  
She'd studied and learned and hunted down those few who were expert in the field   
she was entering upon and learned some more, and at last she'd discovered the   
location of Takeshi's next incarnation.  
  
The youko mentally thanked certain Reikai detectives for arranging for the barrier to   
go down, some two or three years before it became necessary for her to cross the   
worlds with some few of her retinue. They would doubtless have been horrified had   
they known the use to which she was putting it, but what the eye doesn't see the   
heart doesn't grieve over.  
  
The plan, which one of her servants had come up with, had seemed wonderful, back   
in the Makai. It was rapidly losing whatever shreds of glamor might have still   
remained about it. Take the form of a girl his age, and train him up right this time.   
She was slowly but surely preparing Takeshi -- or his new incarnation -- to be the   
perfect consort to her. What foreign general had said "Let them fear me, so long as   
they obey me"? She was profiting by his advice: the new Takeshi would think thrice   
and four times before disobeying her.   
  
She conveniently ignored that the same general had later said "Let them hate me, so   
long as they fear me."  
  
This new Takeshi would be hers, body and soul. How surprised he would be, after   
he had confessed his love to her and begged for her hand in marriage -- or maybe   
she'd wed him first -- when she revealed that she was in fact a queen of not   
inconsiderable wealth and fighting ability!  
  
Well, both of those would be less than they had been. Running a principate from a   
remote location is no substitute for actually being there. But she didn't mind *too*   
much: Take-chan was more important.  
  
And that other little bonus -- !  
  
It had only been from her studies that she had recognized the departing soul for   
what it was, and been able to ensnare it in a soul-net, throwing forgetfulness about it   
and setting it to be born nearby. Now she could control THAT person: oh, he would   
pay for stealing away a pretty boy who would have -- who SHOULD have -- been   
hers.  
  
No one crosses Mitsuha of the Seventh Red and gets away with it. Not even a born-  
Silver.  
  
She had met him in his new body already, and mercilessly teased 'Aya-chan.'   
Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to devote her full energies to his humiliation, as   
she was busy with Take-chan. Regretfully, she decided that she would consolidate   
her hold on Take-chan first. *Then* she would get around to tormenting her old   
acquaintance. Maybe she would cause him to burn with desire for her so badly he   
could not walk, and stand by him laughing. It would be a balmy day in the icehells   
and a chill one in those of flame when she took HIM as a lover.  
  
Mitsuha sighed. She could endure a decade or so of being a human child. Maybe   
she'd even keep the short hair. For at its end, she saw 'Aya-chan' and Take-chan   
kneeling before her. The redhead, she would put through hell. And she would raise   
up Takeshi's reincarnation to stand with her, and she would finally see the deepest   
secrets of his innermost heart, as he gave them all into her keeping and never defied   
her more.  
  
That was what she wanted.  
  
That was what she *wanted*!  
  
  



End file.
